


what a wicked game you play

by youspeakmysoul



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 3x07, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e07 Game Set & Murder, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youspeakmysoul/pseuds/youspeakmysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Jack hadn't reached for the spider but something (someone) else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what a wicked game you play

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fallulah- Wicked Games because I couldn't help myself. Alternate scene for 3x07 if Jack hadn't reached for the spider but something(someone) else. I am again very late to the party but this is pure smut because the finale broke me.

Would you get off my desk, please?"

"Why?" There is a look a genuine surprise. She has no idea what she is doing to him, oh he is sure she knows her affects on him at most moments but she isn't even trying to seduce him and it is torture. He feels positivity Victorian, driven to distraction at the sight of her kneecaps.

"Just.. Remove yourself, Miss Fisher."

"I'm quite comfortable, thank you." He grits his teeth. It's the look of innocence that hides an undeniable smirk that does it. The one that dares _'Your move, Inspector'_ whilst resigning to the fact he won't. He just wants to knock her off guard.

Picking up a report, he absentmindedly brushes his thumb over the smooth expanse of her kneecap as though he has a hundred times before. His gaze never wavers from the report in his left hand but his thumb ventures daringly under the lace edge of her dress that has ridden up over her knees as she continues with her analysis of the case. Jack struggles to conceal a smile, immensely pleased by the goosebumps erupting over her flesh and the muffled gasp that falls from her lips. 

The words swim on the page before him at the feel of her thin stockings beneath his his searching fingertips, his ability to concentrate on anything other that her, lost. Phryne, however appears to recover quicker.

"I hear you had a particularly pleasant chat with Angela Lombard." His fingers halt in their gentle fcaresses for a brief moment before continuing the merest inch further up the inside of her thigh. He almost believes he can detect a note of jealousy in her tone and never missing a chance to rile her further, his reply is almost evasive.

"I believe it was informative." 

As nonchalantly as he possibly can with the feel of her under his skin and her perfume clouding his senses, Jack reaches for another report behind her, continuing to refuse her gaze as his palm presses firmly on her thigh to steady himself. He can hear her sign of frustration as his fingers stay, hot and heavy on her lower thigh but unmoving.

"I also hear that you are very adept of helping a lady out of her dress, Inspector."

That almost gets a rise out of him.

"A gentleman is always ready to lend a hand, Miss Fisher."

She releases a breathless laugh as his grip tightens slightly. "I can see that, Jack." Her head lolls back and he traces the seam of her legs clenched tightly together. Her hat becomes dislodged by the sudden movement and it falls to the floor, forgotten by both parties.

Jack watches her squirm on the edge of his desk from the corner of his eye as he drags his fingers upwards almost lazily, close yet not close enough.

"I do feel she may have gotten the wrong idea by how I responded" Phryne remarks, almost casually, which is commendable given she's trembling under his hands.

At last he looks at her, eyes almost black, eclipsed with desire as his gaze never leaves hers "and how would that be, Miss Fisher?"

He realises his mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, he's given away his hand but truthfully he has gotten tired of their poker game and she holds all the cards anyway.

"Just that it's so much better when you do it with your teeth."

Jack chokes and the piece of paper falls from his hand, a mere whisper against the wood.

_With his what?_

Damn her, that image is going to be permanently seared in to his mind. He has often imagined the various ways he could get her out of the dresses she sashayed knowingly about it, but obviously his imagination has missed one.

_Her back displayed before him, the ridges of her spine visible as the back of her dress gapes across the pale canvas of her spine and dips daringly low. He can almost feel the heat from her skin burning through the thin layer of silk knowing it would feel like water running through his fingers as his hand spans wide over her hip, the tips of his fingers brushing over her hipbone._

_His lips pressing hot, open mouth kisses from her jaw, along the base of her neck, and nipping at the tendon that connects her neck and shoulder before soothing the red mark with his tongue. Gathering the strip of fabric between his teeth before drawing it languidly down her arm, his lips never leaving her skin._

He wants that, wants _her,_ so much.

A sharp intake of breath draws Jack back to the present as he realises his fingers have unconsciously reached uncovered skin where the lace of her garter ends, a lot more liberty than he has even dreamt of taking. With a dangerous glint in his eye, fingers moving with a purpose now, he gently uncrosses her legs and her tennis whites are rucked indecently up her legs.

"And how would you know how it feels to have your dress taken off by my teeth?" It's spoken softly but she can detect the challenge in his voice and Phryne Fisher is nothing if not challenge willing.

Seeing her splayed across his desk causes desire to pool in the depths of Jack's stomach, harsh and unrelenting. He's almost breathless by the sight of her; hair in disarray, the brazenly apparent flush of her cheeks and décolletage, arching towards him.

"Well I always have had a very vivid imagination, Jack." Her voice has taken on a breathless quality that's common only within the walls of her boudoir.

He manages a short chuckle at that, moving just left of where she needs him, fingers pressing in to the top of her hips, tracing the lace edging of her underwear. She's half hoping he'll leave marks, needs to believe that this is real.

"Ja _-ack_." Phryne manages to whimper through clenched teeth as his fingers keep their steady circular motions at the top of her thigh, idly brushing against her stomach. He feels almost heady at the sight of what his slight of hand movements are doing to her and the pleasure they're bestowing.

Phryne manages a high pitched whine of frustration as Jack removes his hand completely and moves his chair until he's sat between her legs. A mischievous smile graces his features as he wraps a hand around her ankle and she tumbles gracefully in to his lap. Her dress is now bunched around her hips as his large hands span her waist yet she uses this position to her advantage, almost writhing in his lap. Jack growls before pulling her flush against him and kissing her frantically, needing to taste her on his tongue.

Breaking apart and breathing hard, one of his hands is clenched tightly on her hip, struggling to gather a modicum of self control and refrain from touching her further. Sensing his growing hesitation, Phryne weaves her fingers through his hair to crush his lips back to hers. Feeling his resolve crumble, she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and his knuckles brush the damp silk at the apex of her thighs in retaliation.

Slipping a finger under her underwear, he idly traces the length of her, finding the wiry curls at the opening soaking, he releases a groan knowing it is he who is having this effect on her.

Another finger makes its way under her silk drawers to press tightly at the little bundle of nerves before parting her folds and tracing light circling movements as her hands scramble for purchase on the smooth wood of his desk behind her before she launches herself forward to clutch at his shoulders, fingernails biting in to his shoulder blades just the right side of painful. 

He moans, a low rumble deep in his throat and she's precariously close to begging at this point for simply _more._

He slips two fingers inside the tight heat of her and he studies the graceful line of her throat as she shudders and arches against him. He draws his fingers out slowly before plunging them back in to her, finding a rhythm that makes her breath hitch and catch in her throat until she's breathless. Jack changes the angle slightly that causes Phryne to produce a high pitched whine before chanting her hips, desperate to meet each thrust.

He mouths, hot and wanting at her neck and collarbone and over her breastbone, wherever he can reach, that leaves her panting. Reckless with abandon, she grinds down on his fingers as the heel of his hand presses hard to her clit.

"Phryne." It's a whispered plea, almost as though he is worshipping at the very alter of her. Her eyes lock with his, he twists his fingers just _so_ and her muscles clench almost painfully around his fingers.

She keens loudly and her shriek is swallowed by the taste of cotton as she bites down hard on his shoulder. 

She's breathing hard as he slowly and carefully reclaims his fingers from her. He wipes his fingers with his handkerchief, the essence of her a trophied reminder that will surely flood his thoughts infinitely.

She manages to get off his lap with reasonable dignity, but her legs are still a little shaky from lust and to his intense pleasure it takes her more than a few moments to catch her breath. Damn him.

"You may ruin me yet, Jack Robinson."

His smile is wicked and more than a little proud but he chuckles breathlessly, soft and a little subdued as she reaches to brush his hair back, just taking any excuse to touch him at this point. "Is that a request, Miss Fisher?"

She laughs, high and bright "If you like." He kisses her again just because he can, slow and sweet. Palms resting just under her jaw as his thumbs brush her impossible cheekbones. "So I'll see you tonight, Inspector." She's wearing the smirk that on any other day would make him feel as though he's two steps behind but at last he believes they're on the same page.

"I look forward to it."

Jack reaches down to retrieve her hat, adjusting his trousers to consider his rather - _ahem_ large problem before placing it over her hurriedly smoothed down hair.

"There. Perfect."

Yes, she rather thinks it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The end is inspired by a quote from Ernest Hemmingway "A Farewell to Arms". _"Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.”_    
>  _“Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?”_  
>  _“Yes. I want to ruin you.”_  
>  _“Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.”_


End file.
